


Primal Impulses

by Gerec



Series: Nothing But Movie AUs [5]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Basic Instinct AU, Blood and Gore, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, F/M, Film Noir, M/M, Multi, Murder Mystery, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-21 19:09:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3702697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gerec/pseuds/Gerec
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detective James ‘Logan’ Howlett has been called in to investigate the gruesome death of media mogul Sebastian Shaw, discovered tied to his bed and murdered after a night of passion, stabbed to death with an ice-pick.</p><p>At the top of the suspects list is Shaw’s lover Charles Xavier; the Oxford educated novelist who just happens to be a millionaire and a telepath…and the last person seen with Shaw before his death.</p><p>Now the gruff Howlett finds himself in a high stakes game of cat and mouse with the charismatic Xavier, trying hard not to fall for the man’s intelligence and raw sex appeal. Adding to his growing list of problems is Xavier’s sister Raven, who seems to share a rather <i>intimate</i> relationship with her brother, and the department’s police psychologist Erik Lehnsherr, who may or may not have his own connection to Xavier that he doesn’t want Howlett to find…</p><p>A Basic Instinct AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt from the lovely [**astasia**](http://astasia.tumblr.com). Gifset for this au can be found [**here**](http://gerec.tumblr.com/post/115525923476/basic-instinct-au-detective-james-logan-howlett).

“Fuck,” Alex mutters under his breath. “What a fucking _mess_.”

They’ve been called to a homicide on the Upper East Side, to a beautiful two storey penthouse apartment with a spectacular view of the city. The furnishings are sleek and modern and clearly expensive; a showcase meant to flaunt the wealth of its now deceased owner.  

An owner whose nude body is still shackled to the headboard, blood soaked in a crimson halo around his head and chest and splattered all over the expensive silk sheets. The room is swarming with activity – McCoy and his team bagging evidence and searching for clues - but Logan can’t stop staring at the gruesome scene on the bed.

He sees a lot of dead bodies in his line of work, but something about _this_ makes even an old jaded cynic like him a bit uneasy.

“What have we got?”

“Sebastian Shaw, male, Caucasian, 45 years old,” Hank answers, looking grim as Logan and Alex approach. “Multiple stab wounds to the head and chest. He’s been dead between six to eight hours.”

“Have we got a murder weapon?” Alex asks. Up close, the sharp coppery scent of blood and semen is hard to miss, and not for the first time Logan curses his own enhanced sense of smell.

Hank shakes his head, giving them both a wry grin. “Ice pick. Thin steel handle. Left on the coffee table in the living room.”

“Christ.”

“It gets better,” a voice chimes in. It’s Cassidy, who has just hung up his cell phone, walking across the room to join them by the luxurious king sized bed. “There’s semen everywhere. He got off, before he got _offed_.”

Alex groans and punches Cassidy in the arm. “Fuck you, Sean that was bad even for you. Do you actually have anything useful?”

“Fine, fine.” Sean’s grin recedes somewhat, though he still seems more amused than affected. “He’s rich. Made his money in media – movies, music, TV – you name it. Owns a club here in Manhattan called ‘The Hellfire’.”

Logan knows The Hellfire Club well, a known mutant hangout catering to the famous and the ultra-elite. “Shaw, he’s a mutant right? What can he do?”

“Something about absorbing energy and being able to redirect it?” Sean says with a frown, taking a quick scroll through the notes on his phone. “I’ll need to check with his people for details. I’ll let you know.”

“What about leads?”

“The maid found him when she arrived for the day. We’re checking her out but I don’t think she did it.” He grins, “Shaw’s pretty shallow. She’s 54 and weighs 240 pounds. Gonna take a wild guess she’s not the one he was fucking.”

Hank shakes his head. “He sounds delightful.”

“I met him, he was a total dick,” Sean answers with a shrug. “Wouldn’t be surprised if he had a line of people waiting to off him. Anyway, he was last seen leaving the Club around 12:30am with—” He stops to take another look at his notes. “Charles Xavier. The boyfriend.  740 Park Avenue.”

Logan takes a last look at Shaw’s body, before turning to Alex with a grunt. “C’mon kid. Let’s go pay Xavier a visit.”

\-----

It’s a short trip from Shaw’s penthouse to Xavier’s place, only three blocks away to the swankiest address in the city.

Alex whistles as they climb into the elevator. “Nice place. I’m guessing he didn’t kill Shaw for his money.”

Logan grimaces, jabbing the button a little harder than necessary. “Maybe. But I’ll bet he’s counting on money to get him off.”

He gets a snicker from his partner as they exit the elevator, but otherwise the two are silent as they knock on the door. It swings open just a few moments later, not by Xavier, but by a beautiful blonde in a tight tank top and mini skirt.

“I’m Detective Howlett, this is Detective Summers. We’re here with the NYPD. We’re looking for Charles Xavier.”

The woman – in her mid-20’s Logan thinks – appears neither surprised nor concerned at finding the police on her doorstep. She eyes them both with the disinterested disdain of the uber rich, before nodding slightly. “Come in.”

She leads them into the lavish living room, covered with floor to ceiling windows overlooking Central Park, and flops into one of the plush armchairs.

“Are you Vice?”

“Homicide,” Alex sputters and Logan only just manages to bite his tongue. Leave it to the kid to get flustered by a pretty girl.

“What do you want?”

“We want to talk to Xavier,” he snaps, growing impatient. “Is he here?”

She smirks at him and pushes herself up and off the chair, going for an expensive looking bottle of scotch on the coffee table. “You want?”

“No.”

She pours herself a shot, savoring it slowly as she watches them over the rim of the glass. When she finishes she licks her lips, ignoring Logan’s glare and Alex’s besotted staring as she saunters over to the windows.

“ _I’m_ an Xavier. Raven Xavier,” she says, turning to smile warmly at them, though her eyes are hard as steel. “And Charles isn’t here.”

“You his wife?”

“Where is he?”

Raven laughs, her voice smooth and sultry as she walks closer to Alex. She bends over and props her arms on the back of the sofa, pressing her cleavage upwards to give him a better view. “I’m his…little sister,” she breathes to Alex before glancing up at Logan with a smirk. “And I’ll tell you where he is, if you tell me why you’re looking for him.”

“Ms. Xavier, I don’t think—”

Rapidly getting tired of the bullshit, Logan interrupts, “We want to talk to him about Sebastian Shaw.”

“Is the bastard dead?”

Alex’s eyes narrow and his smile disappears. “Why do you think he’s dead?”

Raven rolls her eyes. “You wouldn’t be here otherwise, would you?”

“Look Ms. Xavier, why don’t you have your brother contact us as soon as—”

“He’s at the House. In Westchester,” she cuts in, her flirtatious manner gone in the blink of an eye. “1407 Graymalkin Lane.”

“Thanks,” Alex says but Logan is already turning, anxious to get away from the entitlement of old money and Xavier’s games. They are almost at the elevator when she calls after them, her voice following them down the hall.

“You’re wasting your time. Charles didn’t kill him.”

Logan ignores her, though he does file the statement away for later, more than a little unsettled by the utter conviction behind her words.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan and Alex interview Charles regarding Shaw's murder.

The drive to North Salem takes them just over an hour, the hustle of the city dissolving into miles of rolling green. When they reach Xavier’s address even Logan is a little stunned, staring up at the castle-like mansion that Raven had dismissed earlier as ‘the House’.

They leave the car in the circular driveway behind a shiny red Jaguar, ringing the bell as they gaze over the immaculate grounds. There’s a simple bronze plaque to the right of the double doors that reads ‘Xavier Institute’, though it’s unclear to Logan what it means.

After waiting, and getting no response, they make their way around the vast property, wandering past a rose garden, a tennis court and an outdoor pool. And though the place is well maintained it also appears completely deserted, until Logan catches the scent of sweat and adrenaline as they round the corner to the back of the house.

“Can you believe this place?” Alex muses, his eyes wide at the sight of a massive stone terrace and sprawling green fields. But Logan barely notices the view, his attention immediately drawn to the spot on the grass where a man is currently doing push-ups one-handed.

His instincts tell him that he’s found Xavier, so he makes his way across the path and down the stone stairs. Alex follows closely behind Logan, having also noticed the man on the ground.

“Charles Xavier?”

The man ignores them, continuing his push-ups without a word. Logan takes the opportunity to examine Xavier with a critical eye, noting the broad shoulders and toned biceps, beads of sweat sliding down his naked back.

Finally, after another twenty reps Xavier pushes himself up, grabbing a towel off the ground and slinging it over his neck. He is shorter than Logan – maybe 5’6, 5’7 – but his presence seems to fill the space between them. The light scruff does little to hide a face that’s young and affable, though the intensity of his gaze puts Logan on high alert.

“I’m De–”

“I know who you are,” Xavier interrupts, turning towards the stairs and up to an outdoor lounge they previously missed, grabbing a bottle of water off an expensive looking table inlaid with marble. He slips onto one of the comfortable deck chairs, taking a long drink before he asks, “How did he die?”

Logan shares a glance with Alex, who raises his eyebrows at him and answers, “He was murdered.”

Xavier turns his piercing blue eyes on Alex, who shifts a little uncomfortably under the scrutiny. “Really?” he scoffs, the words sharp though the tone is deceptively mild. “Why else would you be here? I want to know _how_.”

Those eyes turn to fix on Logan next, and the unsettled feeling in his gut returns. “With an ice pick,” he answers and Xavier smiles, his lips pressed into a thin line. “How long were you dating him?”

“I wasn’t dating him. I was fucking him.”

“What the fuck?” Alex snaps, and Logan doesn’t miss the way Xavier’s eyes narrow ever so slightly at the outburst. “What are you…a pro?”

Xavier smiles again, his eyes revealing nothing to the two detectives. “No, I’m just an amateur.”

He’s not sure what to make of the man sitting in front of him, the quiet nonchalance exuding from Xavier as they discuss the brutal murder of his lover. It raises all manner of alarm bells in Logan’s mind, long trusted instincts telling him to be careful.

That  _something_  isn’t right.

“How long were you having sex with him,” Logan asks, eager to get some answers.

“About a year and a half.”

“Were you with him last night?”

Xavier’s eyes drift from Logan outwards to the wide expanse of green. “Yes.”

“Did you leave the Hellfire together?”

“Yes.”

“Did you go home with him?”

“No. We had a drink at the club. We left together. I came here. He went home.”

“Was there anyone with you last night?”

“No.” Xavier leans forward in his deck chair, propping his arms up on his knees, the plastic bottle dangling between his fingers. He turns to look straight at Logan again, completely ignoring Alex’s presence. “I wasn’t in the mood to fuck anyone last night.”

They stare at each other, the tension almost tangible in the air and Logan grits his teeth at his body’s visceral response to Xavier. Something about the man makes Logan’s blood simmer, dragging buried feelings and memories too close to the surface for comfort.

“Let me ask you something,” he growls, taking a step closer. “Are you sorry he’s dead?”

Xavier takes a moment to answer, though he leans a little closer too, peering up at Logan with a smirk. “Yes. I liked fucking him.”

This has Logan and Alex sharing a look of disbelief, as Xavier turns his attention away from them once more. He takes another drink from his bottled water, then lays back and stretches out on the deck chair.

“I don’t really feel like talking anymore.”

Alex bristles at the obvious dismissal. “Listen pal, we can do this downtown if you—”

“So read me my rights and I’ll go downtown,” Xavier answers, his soft English accent making his reply sound perfectly polite and placid. “Otherwise, get the _fuck_ off my property. Please.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up - Erik!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan has a meeting with his shrink. And more is revealed about Charles Xavier.

“Come in.”

Dealing with the Xaviers all morning has put Logan in a rather foul mood, and being forced to waste time with a shrink is doing nothing to improve matters.

“Can we just get this over with?” Logan mutters, throwing himself into one of Lehnsherr’s leather chairs with a grunt. “This is pointless.”

“Bad day?” Erik leans back in his own chair and watches him, expression an annoying cross between smug and bemused. He is immaculately dressed as usual, in a light grey suit that makes him look more ‘model’ than ‘police psychologist’. They study each other across a desk that’s devoid of clutter, in an office as sparse and official as the man himself.

“I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” Everything is not fine of course, but he sees no reason to share what can’t be fixed.

“Hmm.” Long fingers drum absently on the arm rest, as Erik eyes him up and down. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Christ Lehnsherr, you know this is bullshit! How long do I have to keep coming here?”

Erik shrugs. “As long as Internal Affairs wants you to. As long as the Captain says so. Until we know you won’t have another flashback in the middle of a shoot-out, Logan, and almost get yourself and a civilian killed.”

He shakes his head, but doesn’t bother to argue. Their sessions have been going on for over a year now, since the day Logan accidentally put a bullet in the mutant he’d been trying to save. “What do want to hear?”

“Have any of your memories come back to you? From before your…enhancement.”

“You mean before Stryker stuck a metal skeleton inside my body?” Logan snarls, “No, they haven’t.”

Erik sighs, clasping his hands together on top of the desk. “Still smoking? Drinking?”

 “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“And your personal life?”

Logan sneers, “You mean my sex life? Not much of one. Not since the last time I fucked _you_.”

They’ve never really talked about it; about the time Erik took Logan home after a night of drinking and the two had fallen into bed in a fit of lust and poor judgement. Of Erik taking control of Logan through his metal skeleton and using his powers to move his body at will. How he made Logan shove him on his hands and knees and grip his narrow hips, fucking him harder and faster with every stroke.

Erik arches his eyebrow at him, a wry smile on his lips. “Are you asking…?”

“No. Fuck, no.” he says, and Erik laughs. It’s not that the sex with Lehnsherr wasn’t good, but fucking your shrink is an inherently bad idea, and Logan has enough problems in his life already.

That, and his mind keeps going through images of Xavier from this morning; of the beads of sweat clinging between his shoulder blades and the shape of that pert ass in tight yoga pants.

“Are we done here?” he asks, snapping out of his reverie.

“Almost. How’s your case going?”

He scowls, “It’s fucked up already, though we’ll know more this afternoon.”

Erik leans forward, expression purposefully blank and asks, “And Charles Xavier? Did you meet him?”

That surprises Logan; he hadn’t expected the news of his visit to travel quite so fast, or for Lehnsherr to mention him. “Yeah.”

“Be careful around Xavier,” Erik warns and Logan bristles; he doesn’t need Lehnsherr to tell him how to do his fucking job. He opens his mouth to tell him exactly that, but Erik cuts him off with a wave of his hand. “I say be careful because the man is a telepath. And he’s more powerful than he lets on.”

 

\-----    

Lehnsherr’s words stay with him for hours, through a hurried lunch of greasy burgers and too many cups of bad coffee. His thoughts are still lingering on Xavier when they’re called in for an update, Logan and Alex entering the room to find Cassidy, McCoy and Captain MacTaggert already waiting around the conference table.

Never one for needless chit chat, the Captain turns to Hank with a nod. “Tell us what you got.”

Hank adjusts his glasses and taps his tablet with a sigh. “There are sixteen stab wounds to the chest and neck. No usable prints, no forcible entry, nothing missing in the penthouse. No prints on the ice pick and the metal cuffs you can buy off any site selling sex toys.”

“What about the boyfriend, Xavier?” Alex pipes in.

The Captain looks at Logan and back at Alex, eyebrow raised. “Is he relevant? I didn’t know he was a suspect.”

Logan nods. “Yeah, he’s a suspect.”

“Alright.” She turns to Sean next and asks, “What do we know about him?”

Cassidy doesn’t even bother to check his notes, leaning forward and brimming with excitement. “You guys are gonna love this. Charles Xavier. Age 30. Telepath. No priors, no convictions. Doctorates in Genetics _and_ Psychology from Oxford. Son of the late Brian and Sharon Xavier. Dad died in a lab accident when he was six. Mom died of the booze when he was 17, leaving him sole heir. Net worth $3.5 billion dollars.”

“Fuck.”

Alex snorts. “Well now we _know_ he didn’t kill Shaw for the money.”

“Sole…wait a minute,” Logan interrupts, “what about the sister?”

“Adopted. She lives with him at the Park Avenue address.”

Nothing in Sean’s briefing so far surprises Logan about Xavier, though he’s yet to gain any insight on a motive. The Captain appears to be in the same boat, a slight frown on her face as she taps her fingers impatiently on the table top. “So he’s rich and he dated the victim. What else? Because that’s not nearly enough to build a case.”

Sean shakes his head, still looking immensely entertained. “I’m getting to the best part. So the house he has in Westchester? The Xavier Institute? He runs a sort of half-way house there for mutants; helps newly released inmates get reintegrated back into society. All funded by Xavier himself, no government money.”

“So what? He’s a goddamn saint now?” Logan growls and the others all stare at him as he continues. “Money and a couple of fancy degrees doesn’t mean shit. Doesn’t mean he’s not capable of stabbing a guy in the throat with an ice pick.”

Hank sighs. “Well I can’t prove anything ‘til I get the DNA results back. And that’s going to take a couple of weeks, at least.”

Sean brushes them both off with an impatient wave. “You gotta let me finish. Guess what else Xavier does when he’s not being the patron saint of downtrodden mutants?”

“Just spit it out Cassidy.”

“He’s a writer.” Sean says gleefully, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a paperback. “This was published last year under his pen name. Guess what it’s about?”

The cover of the novel is all in black, with the title ‘Love Hurts’ in a red font styled to look like smears of blood. The name ‘Charlie Francis’ is written in gold lettering across the bottom.

“It’s about a rich media mogul who gets murdered by his girlfriend.” Sean stops briefly and grins, clearly for added effect. “She cuffs him to the bed, and stabs him to death with an ice pick.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Emma Frost provides the team with some insights into the killer's mind. And Logan and Alex pay another visit to Charles Xavier.

Logan stays up late that night, alternating between beer and cigars as he pores over the pages of Xavier’s book. He’s not much of a reader - preferring to spend his down time in front of the T.V. – but he does know how to appreciate a good story. 

And Xavier’s writing _is_ good, spinning a tale that is deeply provocative and engaging. Logan finds himself pulled into the mindset of the protagonist, living the anger and heartbreak of her parents’ death at the hands of one of the rich and entitled. Can trace the roots of hatred embedded deep in her soul, following her in a decade’s long path to revenge. How she insinuated herself into this man’s life and into his bed, and then exacted justice in a flurry of violence and sex. 

_She sinks down with a soft moan, the metal in the cuffs singing through her body as she rocks slowly up and down his shaft. It calls to her, whispering, to constrict inch by agonising inch until the frail bones in his wrists snap in two and the blood splatters hot and slick across the silk sheets. Tempting, but she reels it in, reveling instead in the power she wields over him in his prone form. He is bound and lost in ecstasy as she rides him, taking his pleasure from her body as callously as he takes everything else in his charmed life._

_The steel of the ice pick hums, low and quiet, warming her with the knowledge of what is yet to come…_

 

\-----

 

Erik joins them in the conference room the next morning, accompanied by an icy blonde dressed all in white.

“This is Dr. Emma Frost,” he begins, his hand absently brushing one of the copies of ‘Love Hurts’ strewn across the table. “I’ve asked her to consult since this isn’t my area of expertise. She teaches psychopathology at Columbia and she also does work with the FBI. Dr. Frost?”

“You’re looking at two possible scenarios here,” Frost says without any introductions or niceties, an air of indifference about her that Logan finds immediately off-putting. “One. The author is the killer, acting out the murder described in ritualistic, literal detail. Or two. Someone wanting to hurt the author read the book, and enacted the killing to incriminate him.”

Both options make Logan cringe internally, though something about Xavier continues to bother him, an itch under his skin he can’t scratch. “If the author did it? What are we dealing with?”

“You’re dealing with a devious diabolical mind,” Frost answers, and Logan shares a look with Alex beside him, as Sean mutters something indecipherable under his breath. “This book was written at least six months, maybe even years before it was published. That means the writer’s been planning the crime, at least subconsciously for that long. The fact that it was carried out indicates psychopathic obsessive behavior not only in the killing itself, but in the applied advance defense mechanism.”

The Captain turns her steady gaze on Frost, and Logan is reminded once again how much he likes Moira’s no bull-shit attitude. “English please Doctor. For those of us who don’t have psych degrees.”

Lehnsherr, who has been sitting impassively beside Frost, jumps in to clarify. “He anticipated the book to be his alibi. He’s going to say ‘do you think I’d be dumb enough to kill someone in the exact way I’ve described in my book? I wouldn’t do that since I’d be a suspect.’”

“And if it’s somebody else?” Alex asks.

Frost leans back in her chair, eyes darting around the room and landing for a few moments on Erik, before turning her gaze to Alex. “You’re dealing with someone so obsessed that he or she is willing to kill an innocent person to implicate the writer. That’s deep-seeded, obsessional hatred. An utter lack of sense of proportion or perspective.”

“So either way, we’re talking total looney tunes crazy huh?” Sean snarks.

“What you have,” Frost snaps, “is someone very ill. And very, very dangerous.”

 

\-----

 

Dangerous or not, Logan finds himself on a familiar doorstep the following day, with Alex fidgeting at his side. They stop first at the Park Avenue address, listed as the primary residence, and are unsurprised when their impatient knocks go unanswered. They have much better luck at the mansion in Westchester, with Xavier opening the door only a few moments after they ring the bell.

“Ah, Detectives!”

Xavier leans casually against the door frame, posture relaxed as he peers up at Logan through a pair of black rimmed designer glasses. Dressed in a white tank top and a pair of fitted grey jogging pants he looks charmingly disheveled – and nothing like the cold-blooded killer Logan has pictured inside his head.

“Mr. Xavier, we need you to come with us and answer a few questions.”

Eyes sharp and bright linger on Alex’s face, long and steady enough to make the kid swallow audibly. “ _Dr_ . Xavier,” the man corrects, and Alex frowns, only for Xavier to throw off the rising tension with an easy smile. “Am I under arrest?”

“If that’s what it takes,” Logan replies, which for some inexplicable reason makes Xavier smile even wider.

“Mind if I change first?” He doesn’t wait for an answer before turning briskly to head back inside. Logan and Alex wander after him through the massive front hall and past the wide oak staircase, passing room after room of antique furniture and old paintings until they come to Xavier’s study.

“Have a seat. I’ll just be a few minutes,” he says, waving an arm absently towards the couch and the upholstered armchair. Logan watches as Xavier slips quietly out of the room, taking a seat on the edge of the couch that gives him a clear view past the partially open door. Alex neglects to sit, choosing to wander around the large yet cluttered room, checking out the massive book collection on three of the four walls.

Xavier’s voice drifts in from the next room, following the sounds of a door opening and then closing. “Is this going to take long?”

“Don’t know.”

There are no further questions from Xavier, so Logan leans back and lets his eyes drift around the room, landing finally on the coffee table in front of him. Xavier’s laptop is there sitting open, with hand scribbled notes, half empty coffee cups and a newspaper strewn across its surface. Logan reaches for the paper absently, only to freeze when he spots the headline.

_Mutant Cop Cleared in Shooting_

There’s a picture of Logan from the courthouse a year ago, next to a smaller headline that says ‘Grand Jury Rules Shooting Accidental’. He doesn’t need to read the text to know exactly what it says; is still reliving the incident in painful detail every time he closes his eyes.

A swell of anger washes over him. He wants to know what Xavier is playing at, digging into his past.

He wants to know why Xavier is interested in anything to do with  _him_ .

Logan shifts, turning his attention back towards the open door where Xavier disappeared. And where before the full length mirror by the wall reflected nothing but an empty corner of the change room, it now shows Xavier, entirely nude, as he strips slowly and methodically out of his tank top and jogging pants.

He is  _stunning_ , broad shoulders with a runner’s lean and muscular physique, half hard cock nestled in a bed of soft brown curls. When he turns around Logan’s eyes follow, widening as Xavier bends over and bares himself unwittingly, giving Logan an eyeful of a jeweled black plug set between two perfectly toned ass cheeks.

Logan knows he shouldn’t stare, and yet he can’t find the will to turn away from watching Xavier. His own cock throbs painfully, his imagination running rampant as Xavier pulls on a pair of dark blue slacks over naked skin. Luckily, Alex’s grunt of surprise brings him back to reality, as his fellow detective frowns at the newspaper still in Logan’s hand.

“What the…?”

He shakes his head at Alex, and tosses the paper back on the coffee table, just as Xavier emerges from the other room, adjusting the collar of his shirt. The man looks impeccable, dressed in a matching suit jacket and tie, and Logan wants nothing more than to shred every inch of respectability off Xavier’s body with his claws and teeth.

“Shall we go?”

Logan stands, closing the distance between the two of them until Xavier is close enough to touch. He snarls, “You always keep old newspapers around, Bub?”

Xavier grins, completely unaffected by the mix of hostility and lust rolling off of Logan in waves. “Only when they make interesting reading, Detective.”


End file.
